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He tries not to think about it in the lead-up to the 24th because he’ll go mad if he does; his palms will go sweaty and his heart will race and he’ll want it and not want it so much all at once. There’s a plan and he knows there is, and he’s glad he’s been home and not seeing the rest of the boys, because he doesn’t know what his face would start doing if he tried to have a normal conversation with them. Even having a laugh on twitter seems like a monumental acting job he can’t possibly pull off, and Louis is nearly dizzy when he finally gets the text from Harry saying they’re all in the car from the airport.
Obviously he can’t tell his mum and sisters anything except that he and the lads have booked a night at a hotel, and his mum’s eyes go narrow, probably thinking there are strippers involved or something. And Louis grins broadly and lets her think that because she knows better than to scold by now, and he’s newly twenty-one, which makes him an adult even in America. “You boys be careful,” she says, and Louis fists his hands in his coat pockets and promises he will.
After birthday lunch with his family, he’s ready too soon, sat in the lounge staring out the front window with his coat on and his small overnight bag at his feet. Harry and Niall promised they’d have everything he needed for the main event, so his bag is just a change of clothes and a toothbrush. Painfully normal.
“You look like a dog whose owner’s gone on holiday,” Lottie tells him, and she dodges a kick in the shin, laughing.
“Isn’t it illegal to mock a man on his birthday?” Louis says.
“There’s an exception for sisters,” she replies. “You only saw them a few days ago. Do you honestly miss them this much?”
“It’s my birthday, isn’t it? I’m ready to get on with the festivities.” He winks at her and she wrinkles her nose.
“I really don’t want to know.”
“No,” he agrees brightly. “Definitely not.” Louis comforts himself that whatever debauched thing she’s imagining, it doesn’t approach the reality of Louis’s favourite fantasy about to come true.
The car pulls up in the street, and Louis springs up as though he’s been burnt before thinking better of it and saying sweet, normal thanks and goodbyes to his mum and sisters, promising he’ll be back early enough for presents on Christmas morning.
“Be safe,” his mum says again, and Louis’s cheeks heat as he ducks his head.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he answers it without looking at the display, “I’m coming,” he says. “Don’t hurry your elders.” Louis can hear all of them laughing into the speaker at that, and he ends the call and runs out the door with a wave.
They’re all leaned out the car windows waving and shouting as he leaves the house, and Louis turns to see his whole family stood on the front step, waving back, and he feels so dirty, knowing what he’s heading into.
One time, months ago, after he started sleeping with Niall on a semi-regular basis, they were cuddled up post-coital and loose-limbed, and Niall asked if Louis had ever thought about all five of them together, turning their cuddles into something a bit messier, like the circle jerks at Harry’s stepdad’s but more.
And since they were already most of the way there, Louis confessed that he thought about that a lot, that he had ever since X Factor, but when he thought about it, he always imagined all of them fucking him, being at the centre of it that way, taking them all one after the other until he was sticky and sore and too tired to move. It was one of his very favourite wank fantasies. And Niall said, “Holy shit, Lou,” and slid his hand down Louis’s arsecrack, thumb pressing where Louis was already slick. And then Louis remembered to be ashamed, remembered that he hadn’t meant to share that with anyone, his face going hot against Niall’s chest. Niall’s fingers worked him open again, even though they were both spent. “Fuck, but that’d be brilliant,” he said, nuzzling the top of Louis’s head, his voice low and tender.
And Louis allowed himself a little smile and the private concession that yeah, it would be. But he didn’t expect Niall to tell Harry. He didn’t expect both of them sitting him down in New York a month ago and asking if he’d meant it. Louis had never had to consider if he meant it, the same way he’d never had to consider whether his childhood dream of being a velociraptor was realistic; it was a fantasy, not something he could really have.
“We could talk to Zayn and Liam,” said Harry solemnly. “We could make it a birthday present. But only if you wanted. We wouldn’t ever otherwise.”
“Enthusiastic consent,” Niall added, winking at him.
Louis was shocked speechless, looking between the two of them. “Why?”
“Why not?” said Niall. Typical.
“Because you deserve to have everything you want,” said Harry. He met Louis’s eyes with his little sideways dimpled smile, and Louis felt this little surge of affection for both of them, their utter mad willingness to be what he needed.
And now he’s here, piling into a car with the lot of them, Zayn pulling him in with an arm around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.
“Hullo, boys!” Louis says happily. “What’s happening?”
“We heard it was some arsehole’s birthday around here,” says Zayn, his arm still looped around Louis’s shoulder.
“Seemed like he deserved a party,” Liam says, giving a tentative squeeze at the back of Louis’s neck. Louis looks over his shoulder at him, and Liam looks shy, which makes Louis’s stomach twist a little. The fact that Liam’s even willing to do something like this is nearly miraculous.
Their hotel is posh, and Harry grins as they pull up at the front. “We got you the bridal suite,” he says.
“Jesus Christ,” says Louis, burying his face in his hands.
“To be fair,” says Niall, “it’s the only place they could put up all five of us.”
“Must be lots of group marriages then, yeah?” asks Louis, a little hysterically.
“One assumes,” says Harry.
“I had no idea Doncaster was such a swinging place,” Zayn puts in.
“Oh, yeah,” says Louis knowledgably. “Full of wonders you’ve never seen in your Bradford bad boy life.”
“I hope so,” replies Zayn, patting Louis’s shoulder.
Louis fights back the urge to flail away and deny the whole thing, end it right here, because he can’t handle the care in Zayn’s voice.
“Get out of the car, Lou,” says Liam. “We’re going to take good care of you.”
Louis takes a deep breath and nods. “Thanks, lads.”
Harry lets them into the suite, and even though they’ve been in fancier places than this, it is still massive and a bit overwhelming. There are several bottles of champagne and a bunch of roses on the table just inside the door. “You know I’m a sure thing, right?” says Louis, though his laugh comes out tinny and forced.
Niall leans in to nuzzle his shoulder. “That’s no excuse to not treat you like a lady. Ditch your stuff and we’ll help you get ready.”
Louis glances around. “All of you?”
“As many of us as you want, mate,” says Zayn.
Louis looks at all of them, swallows. “Maybe just Niall. And Harry.”
“Absolutely,” says Liam. “Sure thing. Zayn, let’s go see about some food for later.”
“Sharing is caring,” Niall calls after them as they head back out the door.
“That’s the theme of the day, isn’t it?” says Harry, and Louis feels himself go scarlet. Harry pats his cheek. “That’s a good colour on you, Lou.”
Louis glares at him, but he can’t think of a witty comeback.
Niall grabs him around the waist and pulls Louis back against his chest. “You don’t want this, mate, you just have to say. We can drink champagne and watch the massive TV over there and have a bit of a cuddle instead.”
Niall’s hand tucks into the front pocket of Louis’s jeans, squeezing at his hip, Niall’s mouth settling at the back of his neck, and Louis takes a shaky breath, suddenly and painfully turned on. “No,” says Louis. “Let’s just… do whatever it is we should be doing right now.”
“Have to get you cleaned up,” says Harry, coming up in front of him so he’s pressed close between the two of them, probably his best mates in the world, maybe the best mates anyone has ever had.
“Because you’re a dirty boy,” Niall adds in.
“Such a dirty boy,” Harry agrees.
There’s a massive tub in the bathroom (“Remind me to be a newlywed more often,” says Niall) and they undress him beside it as it fills, hands moving over his body like they’ve planned this, like they’ve talked through just how each of them will touch him. And then they’re kissing over his shoulder, and Louis watches, fascinated, because that hadn’t been part of his plan, but it’s basically the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
“I can just leave you to it,” offers Louis, and Harry digs his fingers into Louis’s bare waist before moving to kiss him, too.
However close they came, he and Harry have never done this sober before, and Louis savours the taste of Harry’s mouth, the slick stroking of his tongue. His hard-on presses into Harry’s hip as Niall grinds into him from behind. When Harry moves on to kiss the side of his neck, Louis opens his eyes and sees the bath nearly full. “You gonna come in with me?” Louis asks. “Make sure I wash behind my ears?”
“If you like,” says Harry, kissing his shoulder. “If you can keep from spoiling the main event. We can’t let you come yet. It’s in the contract.”
“No one consulted me about a contract,” says Louis.
“Do you need something in writing?” Niall says. “It would get wet.”
“Good point,” says Louis. He realises he’s stalling, and he knows they realise it, too. He climbs into the bath, sinks in up to his chin and looks at Harry and Niall. “Now what?”
Harry tosses a flannel at him. “Now you scrub any part of your body you think anyone might want to put their mouth on.”
“And whatever you do, don’t come,” Niall adds.
Louis props the flannel on his knee. “And after that?”
“And after that, we’ll fuck you.”
He shivers, ducks his head under the water until he can hear it rushing in his ears. He’s fairly sure it’s never been this hard to bathe himself before, but for some reason he’s at a loss. Harry and Niall are just standing there staring at him, Niall holding out a bar of soap.
“Get in,” he says. “Please. I can’t even fucking think right now.”
Niall gets his kit off in what must be seconds while Harry’s still stumbling out of his Converse. And then with the three of them in the tub it’s all knees and elbows and awkward angles until Louis finds himself laid against Niall’s chest with Harry soaping up the insides of his thighs. Their hands seem to be everywhere once they’ve started, Niall tugging at his nipples and tickling under his arms.
When Harry circles his arsehole with one soapy finger, Louis’s hips press forward uncontrollably, and he remembers why they’re doing this in the first place. And then Harry’s sliding that finger into him, making him moan out loud, Louis’s body yielding to it. There’s so much more to come, and Louis knows it, but something about that first touch inside makes it real, and he takes a deep breath as Harry opens him up. “You’re so lovely,” Harry says in a whisper against Louis’s lips. “God, just look at you, Lou. I can’t believe we get to have you like this.”
Louis gives a shaky little laugh, and Niall kisses his shoulder. “Not sure I can believe it either, honestly.”
“We’ll take the best care of you, mate,” says Niall. “It’s going to be so good. Everything you wanted, yeah?”
Harry adds a second slick finger, driving them in deep, and Louis gasps. He can feel Niall’s cock sitting hard and fat at the base of his spine, and he just wants to get to it, get something bigger in him than Harry’s slippery fingers. But they’ll have all night for that.
Harry slides the bar of soap against Louis’s hole, up against his own fingers. Niall starts to rub his shoulders, strong hands finding a relaxing rhythm, Louis’s head flopping back against Niall’s shoulder. “We bought an enema kit,” Harry tells him, and Louis tenses up again, knows Harry must be able to feel it around his fingers. “But we didn’t know if you’d want it.”
“It was a bit of an awkward moment at Boots,” Niall adds. “Probably someone’s tweeted about it by now. ‘Popstars’ intestinal distress,’ I can see the headlines.”
Louis’s startled into a laugh that shakes his whole body. “Well, since no one at this party is likely to try and follow up on that story, I’m sure it’ll be all right.”
“So do you want it?” Harry asks. “After all the public humiliation we went through for it, it seems only fair.” Harry winks at him. “But you don’t have to.”
Louis squirms on Harry’s fingers, wrinkles his nose as he considers it, considers how it would feel, the fullness of it in his gut, both of them watching him take it, the vulnerability of that. And suddenly it’s too much, way too much. He goes scarlet, and Niall’s hands squeeze on his shoulders as though Niall knows how hard it is to even think rationally about these things. “Do you think I need to?” he asks meekly.
“I don’t think anyone’s going to say no to your arse either way,” Niall tells him.
Harry just shrugs. “Whatever you want, babe.”
“I don’t think I do want it,” Louis decides, allowing himself a deep breath. “Sorry about the Boots trauma, but I think I’ll manage.”
“I’ll be thorough,” says Harry, crooking his fingers suddenly so that Louis can’t help but splash and flail in the tub.
“We’ll both be thorough,” replies Niall, still rubbing Louis’s shoulders, still hard against his spine. “We’ll get you so clean that you squeak.”
“I never quite understood that,” says Harry. “Honestly, who wants to squeak?”
“Mice?” suggests Niall.
“Right,” says Harry, “my point exactly. Who really wants to be a mouse?” He gives a distracting little twist of his fingers then, in counterpoint, and Louis has to dig his fingers into his thighs.
“Not me,” he manages to say.
“There’d have to be some really good cheese into the bargain,” Niall says thoughtfully. He trails his hands down Louis’s back, quickly flexing his fingers. Louis hears his knuckles crack. He knows he isn’t making this easy, still wound up too tight with anticipation.
"So who do you want first then?" asks Niall, reaching down between Louis's legs and sliding a finger into him beside both of Harry's, all casual even though Louis moans at the stretch.
He's been thinking about that, god, for days, all weekend while he was home. He's shuffled them around like playing cards in his head, reordering them again and again. All of them but Niall are an unknown quantity, his experience of their cocks limited to what he could see in their group wanks at the bungalow, which isn't much to go on. And now Harry's nestled in so comfortably between his legs, fingering him without batting an eye, just as though they've always done this. Harry's hand wraps around Niall's, and Louis watches the blurry, pale shape of them moving in him beneath the water. "I don't know," he answers finally.
"Can I go first?" Niall asks, like he’s been waiting. "And maybe again last. Not to be greedy."
"You're allowed to be greedy, mate. This whole thing was your idea. And yeah, I'd like it if you'd start me off."
Niall nuzzles into the side of his neck, and his voice is low with tenderness. "It's gonna be good, Lou. It's gonna be everything you wanted."
Harry's eying the controls on the edge of the tub. "There are jets," he says, and his smile is wicked.
Louis shivers right down deep, squeezes on their fingers. Harry's eyes light up, and he immediately scrambles to find an angle, turning on the jets and grabbing Louis by the shoulders to drag him right on top of one, the water lapping right behind his balls, streaming up over his hole as Harry spreads him open again. He moans, rocking back, his toes curling against the edge of the tub, Harry and Niall to either side of him, staring. They reach for him at the same time, Harry's hand going to his cock while Niall starts on his nipples again, squeezing them tight between thumb and forefinger.
The door to the suite slams, and they can all hear Liam and Zayn outside. "In here, lads!" Niall calls, and Liam's head appears around the door. Louis is suddenly aware of how they must look, piled naked in the tub, Louis's knees lifted and spread and Harry and Niall's hands skating over his wet skin.
"Not starting without us, are you?" Zayn asks with a grin, pushing into the bathroom. Harry gives a last soapy swipe up Louis's cock and waves pruny fingers at them.
"Just getting ready," he says, as though they're dressing for a show or doing vocal exercises. Something totally normal.
"I've got a bit of stage fright, I think," says Louis, sinking deeper into the tub, Niall groaning a bit as his cock drags along Louis's hip.
"Don't think we'll mind if you go off-key," says Liam with a flickery, nervous little smile.
"Not a bit," Zayn agrees.
"Come on," says Niall, nudging Louis with his shoulder. "Up you get, mate. Zayn, toss us a towel."
Louis stands, naked and dripping, his dick hard and his arsehole throbbing vaguely. The towel Zayn throws hits him in the face. The tub's up on a little pedestal, and he finds himself towering over the rest of them for a moment, at the center of everything. Zayn gives a whistle. "Happy birthday to us all," he says wolfishly.
"Twat," replies Louis, clutching the towel in front of himself. He's embarrassed and hot all over and massively turned on. Niall lays a hard smack on his bum, and Louis yelps and swats at him.
"Get out of the tub, Tommo," says Niall. "We've got a lot to do."
Louis hadn't even seen the bedroom before he was steered off to bathe, but behind a set of ornate double doors is possibly the largest bed known to man. The vast expanse of it is covered by a white duvet, and Louis feels as though he's defiling a snowdrift when he clambers onto it, lying down in the centre and spreading his arms wide. The bedding is cool and smooth against his bare back, and he looks up at all of them, feeling calm with inevitability. He's going to have all of them; they're all going to have him. His favourite furtive wank fantasy is about to come true.
Harry dumps out a dozen condom packets and a massive bottle of lube on the bed, then bites his lip. "We didn't talk about safe sex. In the planning."
Louis shuts his eyes to get the words out. In for a penny, in for a pound. "I always imagined, you know, without. I haven't got an STI, and I imagine, if you're all careful, you could just..." He can't say come in me, although that's what he's thinking, his whole body aching at the thought. He's wanted this so much, to be full of them, all of them.
He can feel them deliberating, but he doesn't dare open his eyes until Harry says, "Yeah, all right. That's fine. If you're all right with it." And then Louis watches him sweep the condoms off the bed in some sort of grand symbolic gesture.
Niall’s watching him, all thoughtful, and Louis’s not completely sure there isn’t some sort of plan brewing in his head. “All right, Niall?” he asks.
“Just thinking I might like to eat you out a bit first. If the other lads don’t mind waiting a little longer.”
Liam’s eyebrows jump straight up, but Zayn and Harry shrug, and Louis can’t help the little noise that spills out of him. He’s already so sensitive, and the thought of Niall’s tongue in him is almost painful, but in the best way. He spreads his legs like it’s only the two of them, and Niall crawls up in between.
Louis shuts his eyes as Niall trails little biting kisses up the insides of his thighs, his mouth hot and open. He doesn’t seem to care that the rest of the lads are even there, and Louis loves him for that, for his sharp focus on the task at hand. When Niall’s tongue touches his hole for the first time, Louis’s hips come up off the bed, and he turns to stifle a broken moan against the duvet.
“Soapy,” says Niall, bringing his head up for a second and licking his lips. Louis laughs, but he’s already got his head down again, spreading Louis’s cheeks wider, licking more deeply into him. Liam makes a small noise, and Louis looks up at all of them, just for a moment, Zayn and Liam fixated on Niall between his legs but Harry watching his face, wanting to take care of him, like a best mate is supposed to. Their eyes meet, and Harry grins slyly and looks away. Louis shuts his eyes again, arching into Niall’s mouth, gathering Niall’s soft hair between his fingers and pulling just a little.
Niall digs his tongue straight into Louis’s hole, and then two of his fingers beside it, a new stretch. Louis gasps, and he knows he’s going to take so much more than this before the night is through, but right now this is what he needs. This and maybe a little bit more. His cock is sitting fat and hot against his belly, dripping there, and he’s tempted to touch it, to bring himself off while Niall sucks sloppily at his arsehole, licking in between his two fingers as he spreads them. But he can’t. He’s got to wait.
“Jesus Christ, Lou,” says Zayn, and Louis thinks he sounds almost angry until he sees Zayn rubbing at himself through the front of his trousers, sucking on his bottom lip. He never asked if Zayn or Liam has been with a boy before, and he wonders if he’s witnessing some kind of sexual awakening right now. But mostly he doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter.
“Niall,” he pants out. “Niall. Need you to…”
Niall presses one last kiss behind his balls, sucks one into his mouth briefly, and then pulls off. “Anyone else want a go?” he asks with his chin soaked. “Lube won’t taste as good.”
Louis shivers. Niall’s just offering him up, every bit as though he has the right, and Louis’s breathing goes funny again just thinking about that.
Harry swallows, licks his lips like he wants to. But he says, “I think we should move on. I think he needs… something bigger in him.” His voice drops at the end, unpracticed, and Louis would have thought those words would come easy to Harry, whose voice already sounds like sex at normal times.
“That so, Lou?” Niall asks, not waiting for an answer before uncapping the lube and smearing it over his fingers, until his whole left hand is practically dripping. Louis has thought about Niall’s hands, about how he would feel spread around Niall’s fist. Maybe after New Year’s, maybe if he can even walk after this.
Niall kisses him on the mouth as he drags his slick fingers over Louis’s hole, stroking him where he’s already so wet. Niall’s mouth is eager, and Louis sucks at his tongue, tasting soap and skin. “You’re gorgeous,” Niall says, moving on to Louis’s jaw, finally sinking a finger into him, deep as it can go. “Can’t even imagine how good you’ll look covered in our come. Before I lick it all off of you.”
“Filthy,” says Louis, remembering that Niall had suggested this first, that he may be the only one who’s thought about this as much as Louis has.
“You will be,” Niall promises, and adds a second and then a third finger, stretching Louis wide on his knuckles, fucking them into him with a thick squelch of lube. Louis’s thighs tremble, spread wider, and Niall’s fingertips stroke roughly over his prostate.
He groans when Niall adds a fourth finger, tucking them all together, working them deep. He’s so ready for Niall’s cock, on the verge of begging, but he can’t get the words out, wriggling onto Niall’s fingers. “You want me to fuck you now, Lou?” asks Niall. “That what you want?”
“Yeah,” breathes Louis.
“He’s not exactly playing hard to get, mate,” says Zayn, and Louis looks up to realise they’re all on the bed now, stripped down to their pants, clustered around him to watch. If he weren’t so flushed already, he might get redder, a sweet little burn of shame in his belly.
Niall kisses him again, gently, mouth slightly open. Then he pulls his fingers out, gives a quick swipe up the length of his cock with his slick hand, and presses his dick into Louis’s arse. Louis opens to it, wrapping one leg around Niall’s hip, urging him in deeper. Niall is taking deep breaths against his collarbone, working into him so slow that it must be tough for him, and the other boys are leaning in, looking at his arse spread on the fat length of Niall’s cock.
They haven’t done it without a condom before, even though they knew they could, and Louis feels the heat of him differently, deep inside. “Shit,” says Niall, holding himself so still, trying not to come. “Fucking shit. You feel too good.”
“Not yet,” says Louis, nuzzling at his face. “Fuck me first.” He wraps his legs around Niall’s hips, holds Niall deep in him. “Please. Show the rest of them how it’s done.”
Niall spares him a grin and takes another deep breath. Then he starts to fuck Louis hard, hips snapping. “That’s my boy,” says Louis.
“Enough of your cheek,” Niall replies. He bends into each thrust, and Louis feels breathless with the driving rhythm of it, hands clutched on Niall’s shoulders. He gives a wordless little cry as Niall’s cockhead tugs at the rim of his hole, feeling emptied out before Niall slams back in again.
“Oh my god,” says Liam, and Louis looks up at him, watches Liam watching Niall fuck him. He has one hand cupped against the front of his boxers, and his cheeks are splotchy pink, his mouth hanging slightly open. Louis lifts one hand from Niall’s back, patting at Liam’s thigh, and Liam glances down at him, startled, caught out. “Louis,” he whispers. “God.”
“Come here,” Louis replies. He pats at the space beside him on the bed, and Niall slows then stills as Liam lies down, so close that Louis can feel Liam’s breath against his cheek. He turns his head, gives Liam a meaningful up and down look. “Like what you see?”
“Yes,” answers Liam. “Do you like it?” He sneaks a peek at Niall, but Niall’s holding off, letting them talk, his cock settled fat and hot in Louis’s arse.
“Fucking love it,” Louis says, too turned on to be ashamed, although that will probably pass. “Kiss me.” Liam hesitates, so he says it again. He knows how much Liam likes kissing; they’ve all heard him say it, say how he misses it when he’s single. “Go on.” Liam does, leans in close and covers Louis’s mouth with his. His lips are soft, damp, and Louis opens a little to him, letting Liam steer him into a deeper kiss. Liam’s hand comes up, touching his face, cupping the angle of his jaw, and Louis leans into it, feeling Niall shift a little inside him, knowing he’s waiting.
“Fuck me,” Louis says, breaking the kiss and then dipping back into it. And then Niall’s moving in him again, a slow deep push, and Liam’s swallowing the sound he makes. He kisses Liam until he’s breathless, Liam’s tongue stroking at his, one of Louis’s hands cupped around the back of Liam’s neck, petting at his short, bristly hair.
“I’m close,” Niall tells them, his voice tight, and Louis opens his eyes, looks at Liam and then at Niall. Liam’s breathing has gone rough, and he’s staring down between Louis’s legs. At any other time, it would make him self-conscious, but Liam’s so riled up that Louis can’t help but tease him.
“Niall’s gonna come in me now,” Louis tells Liam. “I’ll be all wet for you if want to go next.”
Liam drops his head onto Louis’s shoulder, but his hips hitch forward regardless. “Can I?” he says, like he needs it, his hips working at a slow grind against Louis’s side.
“Course you can,” Niall answers for him, and Louis reaches out a hand for Niall to take as he gives one last deep thrust and comes, fingers shaking in Louis’s grip, eyes closing tight. He keeps working himself in the mess of his come for a moment, and Louis feels filthy with it, already dripping, and there are still three more of them to go. Niall’s come slithers along the crack of Louis’s arse as he pulls out, but Niall puts his fingers down to catch it, stroke it back into Louis’s slippery hole. “Think you can keep all that in you?” he says, resting his fingers there, right where Louis is tender, nearly sore.
Louis looks up at him, nods, feeling shy again, all opened up and so fucking hard, so turned on with all of them looking at him. Niall gives him a grin, easy, proud, and Liam is shifting at his side, sitting up. He’s flustered, looking between Niall and Louis like he still isn’t sure where he fits in. Niall strokes a hand up Louis’s thigh, squeezing gently at the top. “You’re doing so good, yeah?” Niall whispers, sliding sideways out of the gap between Louis’s legs. This is where the reality of it sets in, of fucking someone else, of giving himself up to all of them. Liam takes off his pants, and Louis gets a first look at his cock, thick and blunt-headed, poking straight up between his legs. It’s going into him, and he spreads his legs wider, restless, struggling to keep Niall’s come inside.
The pause is too long, enough to feel awkward as Liam finally settles in between his spread thighs. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Liam asks. He’s hard, his hand cupped around his dick like he’s trying to hide it.
“For my birthday,” Louis says, and he closes his eyes as Liam enters him, rocking gently into him. He usually needs a little roughness, but he likes this too, Liam’s cock opening him up where he’s already slick and sensitive, the slow burn of it as he presses in deep. Louis arches up under him, swivelling his hips to get the angle he likes best, and Liam swears under his breath.
Niall crawls up the bed to lay himself along Louis’s side, fingers sliding through the trail of precome on Louis’s belly. “Wanna make you come,” Niall says, nuzzling at Louis’s cheek. And Louis had been trying to wait, trying to hold out for later, but he’s so hard he aches already. When Niall wraps his hand around Louis’s cock, Louis groans and clenches hard on Liam in his arse. “Like this, yeah?” Niall says, stroking much too slowly. “Or in my mouth? Or maybe I should ride you, Lou, hey? Sit on your dick while Liam’s fucking you?”
Louis makes a strangled noise and thinks he might choke on his own tongue. Niall is so fucking shameless, and Louis just stares at him for a moment, knowing he’d follow through on every word he’s just said. “Your mouth,” says Louis, and Niall kisses him before sliding down between Louis’s legs, taking the tip of Louis’s cock into his mouth and sucking wetly. Liam’s watching the back of Niall’s head, holding himself deep in Louis’s arse, hips twitching a little. Louis feels his own balls tense, knows he can’t last between the two of them. “Fuck me, Liam,” he says. “Please.” Because that will get him there, easy as anything, Liam’s measured thrusts.
Liam’s big hands curl around his hips, gentle and steady, and he works himself deep in Louis’s arse, thrusting easily in the mess of Niall’s come. Niall’s mouth opens wider on Louis’s cock, and Louis takes a sobbing breath. He’s close, he’s so close. And then there are teeth on his right nipple, and he opens his eyes to see Zayn leant over him, tugging at the tight little point of it, and the three-way sensation is too much for him. He gasps and arches, and Niall’s fingers squeeze tight around the base of his cock, holding him off, keeping him on the edge. “Please,” he moans out, and Zayn bites him harder, and he’s sure the hand sliding into his hair is Harry’s, stroking, gentling him.
He leans into the touch, and Niall gives a slow stroke up the length of his cock, fingers loosening, making him light-headed with need. “Please,” he says again, brokenly, and Harry kisses his mouth, stopping the words, sucking at Louis’s clumsy tongue. This is all of them, he realizes, all of them touching him, and he’s so full and so hard and so well loved like this. Niall swallows him straight down to the root the next moment, and this time it’s not a tease, the head of his cock fucked into Niall’s throat, and Louis sobs into Harry’s mouth as he comes. “That’s it,” Harry whispers. “That’s right, Lou.”
Liam’s still fucking him as Niall pulls off his spent cock, moving faster, leaning into each thrust and opening Louis up even wider. He puts a hand on the back of Louis’s knee, hitching it up higher, and Louis is so sensitive now that it nearly hurts, having Liam in him so deep. But this is what he wants, to be fucked until he thinks he can’t take it. Zayn leans up to kiss Niall across Louis’s chest, and he can see their tongues sliding together, sharing his come. Louis moans incoherently, and Zayn looks at him, eyebrows raised before he bends down to kiss Louis too, messy and warm, licking into Louis’s mouth as Liam finishes inside him.
“Oh god,” says Liam. He looks overwhelmed, but Louis feels bonelessly happy, hurting in all the right places as Liam pulls out, Niall’s fingers sliding down to fuck Liam’s dripping come back into him.
“Slut,” says Niall fondly, resting his chin on Louis’s raised knee. “He loved that, Liam. He really did.”
Louis can’t manage the words, but he nods, finds Liam’s hand to squeeze. He’s all loose and warm, cradled between Harry and Zayn. “Want a break?” Zayn asks, nuzzling at his cheek. “Or could I have my go?”
Louis’s hole is swollen and sore around Niall’s fingers, and he’s so sloppy inside, he doesn’t know how he can possibly take more. But he wants to try. “Go on,” he tells Zayn.
“Good boy,” says Niall. He circles his thumb around Louis’s rim, and Louis shivers right down to his toes.
“Can you get on your knees?” Zayn asks. “Can I fuck you like that?”
Louis can barely find his knees, but he rolls onto his belly, soft cock dragging against the sheet. Niall’s hands are on his hips, pulling them up and back, and he presses gentle kisses at the base of Louis’s spine, gives one quick lick down the mess of his crack before he pulls away.
“I like it best when I’m on my knees,” Zayn explains, and Louis turns his head to look at him over his shoulder. “With Perrie.”
“With Perrie doing what?” Harry asks.
“Fucking me,” says Zayn, unconcerned. Louis can feel them all staring at him now. “Don’t do that. She’s got a strap-on. It’s purple. I would have said if you asked.”
Harry’s laugh is startled and gleeful. “I’m so glad we’re mates, Zayn.”
Zayn grins. “You too, Hazza.” He runs his hands up the backs of Louis’s thighs, feels out the curves of his arse and presses a thumb against Louis’s hole. He’s so slick now, so open, and Zayn is touching him so gently, right where he needs it. And god, he still needs it, feels empty without a cock inside him. “All right, Lou?” He rubs the tip of his cock up behind Louis’s balls, and Louis rocks back a little on his knees, chasing it. He’s dripping, can’t help it, and when Zayn sinks into him, he can feel the others’ come squelching out around his dick. “Fuck,” says Zayn, palming at Louis’s hips and rocking himself in deeper. “You’re so wet. It’s like fucking a girl.”
“Dirty boy,” says Niall fondly, stroking Louis’s hair. “Fucking filthy for us.” Louis leans into his hand, pushes back onto Zayn’s cock. Niall’s hand slips down his cheek, and he presses his fingers to Louis’s kiss-swollen lips. “Like it when you’re all full up like this, darlin’?”
“Yeah,” says Louis, his voice cracking. He shuts his eyes and lets Niall slip his fingers into his mouth, sucking a little at them.
Zayn squeezes his hips, pulls him back so Louis’s taking his cock just that little bit deeper. “Seems like we’ve finally fucked all the smartarse out of you, Lou.”
Louis grunts around Niall’s shoving fingers, can’t manage a real protest. It’s probably true. He feels so good, even though he’s shaking and Zayn’s every thrust hurts a little, rubbing where he’s most sensitive. His dick’s getting hard again as well, too soon, his balls tingling. He sucks harder at Niall’s fingers.
“You like having something in your mouth too, don’t you, Lou?” says Niall. “Harry’s been so patient. Why don’t you suck him a little while Zayn’s fucking your arse? Think you’d like that?”
Louis nods desperately. He’s so grateful to Niall, knowing what he needs so he doesn’t have to ask.
Harry crawls up onto the pillows in front of him, holding his cock in one hand as he settles. It’s so big, long and thick, and Louis aches for it, opening his mouth as Harry scoots forward, smearing the slick head against his lower lip. “Hey, Lou,” Harry says warmly. Louis looks up at him through his eyelashes, licks at the wet tip of Harry’s cock, precome bubbling up over his tongue. “You look so good like this.”
Louis shivers at the praise, clenches around Zayn’s cock. He meets Harry’s eyes, lets Harry look at him for a long moment before he leans up to suck the head of his cock into his mouth. Harry’s fingers come down gently on the back of his head, and he feeds Louis his cock with a slow thrust of his hips. Louis breathes around the thickness of it, swallows when it hits his gag reflex and keeps swallowing until the head hits the back of his throat, and his nose is buried in the wiry hair at the base. Harry’s fingers are trembling, and Louis’s whole body is echoing it, that fine shudder running all through him. Zayn’s settled deep in his arse, stroking his hips, letting him relax all over again.
“That’s good,” Niall tells him, giving the back of Louis’s neck a proprietary squeeze. “Doing so good for us.”
Louis laps at the shaft of Harry’s dick, pulls off a little and takes him back in. He feels too exposed with them settled so still inside him, fucking him deep at both ends.
“He wants you to make him take it,” Niall says, and Louis makes a low, helpless noise in his throat because Niall sees him so clearly, knows what he needs so well.
Zayn grips Louis’s thighs and fucks him harder, pitching him forward onto Harry’s cock with every deep thrust. He doesn’t even have to do anything with the two of them working inside him; he can just open up and take it, let them fuck into his mouth and his arse until he’s breathless and dizzy again.
And then Harry pulls out, suddenly and with a deep, regretful groan. “I can’t,” he says, cupping a hand around his hard cock, not quite touching it. “I’ll come.”
Louis licks his swollen lips and looks up into Harry’s face. He gets it, and he wants Harry to come in his arse, but having his mouth unoccupied right now is nearly painful. And Harry must understand that because he tips Louis’s chin up for a kiss immediately, slow and gentle. And Zayn’s still fucking Louis’s arse, sliding through the mess inside him and dragging against his prostate, working new little shivers out of his aching body.
Harry slides his hands down Louis’s back, kneading at his tensed shoulders, the muscles bunched tight to keep himself steady for Zayn’s thrusts. “You look so good,” says Harry into his mouth. “I can’t wait for my turn in you.”
Louis nods, lost in the feel of Harry’s lips, already opening over his again. Zayn grips at his hips a little tighter, fingers splayed along the crease of Louis’s thighs, and his come fills Louis up even more, the hot drip of it sliding down behind Louis’s balls. For a minute, Zayn keeps moving his hips in small circles, breathing against the dip of Louis’s spine, and Louis nudges his nose against Harry’s before turning to look over his shoulder at Zayn. “Gorgeous, mate,” Zayn says, lips brushing Louis’s back as he pulls out, leaving the same gaping ache from before, the low throb that makes Louis feel as though he’ll never be whole without a cock in him again.
His thighs are shaking as Harry gathers him up, long arms pulling him in until he’s straddled over Harry’s lap, Harry’s cock gliding wetly along the crack of his arse as Harry leans back into the headboard. He’s opened up in a different way like this, and he knows he can’t possibly keep all their come inside him now. It trails down his inner thighs, slimy and cooling, and with his legs spread they must all be able to see the drip of it. They must be able to see everything.
Louis’s cheeks heat with a surge of shame, unexpected, as he thinks what he must look like right now, open and fucked and filthy with their come. He’s the oldest, the leader; he isn’t supposed to need like this, and now all of them know that he does, that he always has. It’s too much to bear in that moment, all of them looking and knowing, and he can’t help the sick feeling rolling in his stomach, the urge to flee that tenses his shoulders and thighs. But he can’t even do that, Harry’s arms looped around his waist, every part of his body already aching. There’s a rustling behind him, a hurried whisper he doesn’t catch, and a moment later a cool, wet flannel is pressed to the burning nape of his neck. Typically, Niall sees exactly what’s wrong.
“Hey, Lou,” says Niall, soft against his ear, and the hand holding the flannel slips down between his shoulder blades. “Is that enough? S’alright if it is. That’s just fine.”
“You’ve been so good for us,” Harry adds, kissing his cheek.
“We’re so proud of you,” Niall continues. “I’m so proud.” He rubs the flannel in slow circles down Louis’s back, and Louis can feel the panic starting to ease, Niall’s words sinking in. “We can get you cleaned up and have a cuddle, see how many Christmas films are on the telly. That’d be just fine.”
Louis looks at Harry, nose to nose, Harry’s cock still settled half-hard between his thighs. “Harry?”
Harry grins. “I’ve got three other fit lads to help me out, Lou. I’m fine.” And he is, that’s the wonder of it. Harry won’t ask him for anything he doesn’t want to give. Louis nudges their mouths together, sucks at Harry’s lower lip until he opens to it, then kisses him thoroughly. He can feel Niall watching, his hand fisted around the flannel at the base of Louis’s spine, and Louis turns to kiss him too, leaning into the slick thrust of Niall’s tongue. It fires up a new spark of arousal in Louis’s belly, and he bites his lip as he pulls away.
“I’m thinking.”
The hand on his knee is clearly Liam’s, squeezing gently, and Liam’s face is so solemn when Louis looks up. “Anything you want, mate,” he says. “Me and Zayn bought all the junk food in Doncaster for afterwards.”
“And at least half the beer,” Zayn adds, curling a hand around Louis’s other hip.
Niall slips the flannel down between the cheeks of Louis’s arse, wiping up the mess of come there, and Louis’s sore, but it feels so good, the slow rub of Niall’s fingers over his swollen hole. “I want Harry first,” he whispers, and there’s no shame to it now, the admission. His dick is starting to plump up again, and there’s a sweet buzz of tension in his balls. Harry kisses the corner of his mouth.
Niall’s the one who fumbles for the lube, slicks Louis’s arsehole again, but all of them are curled around him as he sinks down onto Harry’s cock for the first time. It’s a new, deeper stretch, and Louis tucks his face into Harry’s neck as he works himself open on the length of it, Niall’s slippery fingers rubbing over the base of Harry’s cock to ease the way. Pleasure blooms out from the base of Louis’s spine, and he settles there for a moment, holding Harry all the way inside him. Louis’s own cock is pressing stiffly between their bellies.
“Good boy,” Niall says, his dick brushing Louis’s arsecheek as he shifts on the bed. “Love you so much.” He’s obviously hard again just watching, just seeing Louis so thoroughly fucked. And Louis’s head is suddenly full of the most glorious idea.
Louis lifts himself up, slides back down with a little shimmy, rubbing Harry’s cock over every sensitive place inside him, fucking himself deep and slow, making Harry moan. He’s being greedy, but that’s all right. He’s got free licence to be greedy tonight. “Said you could go last, didn’t I?” Louis says to Niall over his shoulder.
Niall rubs a slick fingertip around the rim of his stuffed hole. “Not fussed about that, mate.”
“But I want you to. I want you both. Now.”
Harry’s eyes go wide, and Liam makes a pained little sound before he can bite it back. But Niall is quiet, thoughtful, pressing gently with one finger, testing the give of Louis’ arsehole. “Is that a good idea?” he asks, and for the first time he sounds uncertain.
“It’s my birthday,” Louis insists. “You lot said I could have anything I want.”
Niall’s lips brush his shoulder as he rests his face there. “Not if it hurts you.” But his finger is pushing into Louis’s arsehole alongside Harry’s cock, and it’s so much but not too much. Not more than Louis wants.
“Always seems to work all right in porn,” says Harry tightly, his eyes fluttering shut.
Niall spreads more lube over his fingers, pushes in with two, not even arguing now. It burns a little, and Louis gasps, works back against him anyway. “You’ll tell me though,” Niall says. “You’ll tell me if I need to stop.”
“Don’t stop,” replies Louis. “Right now. Just please don’t stop.” It’s new, the ache, the way Niall’s fingers pry into him, and Harry whimpers at the press of them against his cock. But Louis takes it, breathes through it, prays that there’s space inside him for this because he can’t think of anything he’s ever wanted more.
His dick is drooling precome against Harry’s belly, each new twist of Niall’s fingers pushing Harry right up against his prostate. Louis’s thighs tremble with the effort of holding himself still, and he wants to beg, but he doesn’t have the words left, too full up with sensation. When the head of Niall’s dick nudges up against his hole, Louis wiggles back onto it, working himself open even more.
It’s not easy. It couldn’t possibly be easy, but he takes it, slick and aching inside, both of them filling him up. “Fuck,” says Harry, with a little hitch of his hips, and Louis whimpers. Niall is swearing softly and continuously against the back of his neck so that it starts to sound more like prayer.
“All right, Lou?” Zayn says softly, squeezing at Louis’s wrist, locking their hands together, and the tremor in Louis’s fingers seems even more pronounced with Zayn’s wrapped around them. He hurts, the rim of his hole stretched thin on Niall and Harry, and he doesn’t think he can move without breaking right open. It shouldn’t be a good feeling, fragile and aching, but it’s exactly what he wants. He grips Zayn’s hand as Niall wriggles back a little and pushes into him again, making Harry gasp and tilt back against the headboard.
He has to count the hands touching him before he realises the one rubbing more lube around his stretched hole is Liam’s, strong fingers stroking over Harry and Niall’s dicks, slicking him again, taking the edge off the burn. Niall thrusts into him just twice more, the only one of them who can properly move, and Harry ducks his head and comes with a sudden cry, his dick flexing wetly in Louis’s stuffed arse. Niall presses his lips to Louis’s shoulder, his breath loud and uneven, and every shift of his hips presses a pained little sound out of Harry now.
“So wet,” Niall murmurs, rocking a little into Louis as Harry starts to slip out of him. His sore hole squeezes down on Niall’s dick, but Louis still feels hollowed out inside, balanced in Harry’s lap with Harry looking sleepily up at him. The pleasure of Niall fucking him alone is less sharp, the rhythm of him inside easy and familiar. His dick is hard, and it’s almost a shock to realise as Liam’s fingers curl around it, Niall’s hands steady on his hips. “Almost there, darlin’,” says Niall. “Want me to come in you again?”
“Yeah,” Louis sighs, tipping his head back as Zayn starts to kiss his throat, teeth grazing his thrumming pulse. Liam twists his slick hand on Louis’s cock, starts working him faster, counterpoint to the uneven bucking of Niall’s hips, and Louis’s second orgasm is ripped out of him, threads of come hitting Liam’s hand and Harry’s belly. Niall moans into the soft, sweaty hair at the nape of Louis’s neck, and the final press of his cock is sudden and deep. “Stay,” Louis tells him, tightening down as much as he can, Niall’s cock plugging all their come inside him.
“Bossy,” says Niall, but he doesn’t pull out, stroking Louis’s hips as he settles against his back. Exhaustion is settling over Louis, heavy in his splayed limbs, dragging down his eyelids. Harry hugs him in close.
“Happy birthday,” Harry says, and the other boys chorus it after.
Louis smiles against Harry’s shoulder. “Thanks, lads.” They’re all tangled up together, knees and elbows jabbing, and eventually Niall has to pull out so Louis can lie down properly, settling against Harry’s chest, sticky and sore, biting lazily at an available nipple to hear Harry grumble. Liam brings another wet flannel, swipes it down the crack of Louis’s arse, and it’s oddly intimate, that soothing touch where he’s hot and aching, still oozing come.
“Do you want to clean up properly, mate?” Zayn asks, folding their hands together again as he cuddles in on Harry’s other side. “We could run you a bath.”
“Not yet,” Louis replies. “Wanna wait until my legs start working again.” His thigh muscles are twitching from the strain of folding himself over Harry’s lap, and his knees feel like he’s ninety. Liam gives him a few more strokes with the flannel before tossing it away, curling into the curve of Harry’s out-flung arm. Louis looks up, sees Niall sitting back a bit, watching the pile of them with a small smile curving the corners of his mouth. He made this happen, brought them all together and talked Louis through every moment of uncertainty.
When Louis wakes from a light doze an hour later, Niall’s the only one he drags into the bathroom with him, stumbling coltishly through the suite, his legs still threatening to drop under him. He sits in the tub this time while it fills, splashing his toes in the warm water, Niall testing the temperature again and again against his wrist. “I love you,” Louis says, and Niall gives a little start at the sound of his voice. Then he grins, wide and white behind his braces.
“Love you too,” says Niall. He turns off the hot water and climbs into the tub. “Like this alright?” he asks, curling around Louis’s back just like before, Louis’s body fitting so perfectly into the splay of his thighs.
“Yeah,” Louis sighs, wriggling his sore bum into a more comfortable position against Niall’s crotch. He doesn’t think either of them are likely to get it up again right now, but there’s something satisfying about the weight of Niall’s soft cock, the heft of his balls, resting at the small of Louis’s back. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure, mate.” He stretches his legs out, taps his foot against Louis’s. “How’s it feel, knowing what a slut you are?”
Louis laughs, ducking his head as Niall nuzzles a kiss into his shoulder. He checks himself for shame, but there’s none yet; he’s just tired and sore and happy, still a little stunned at what Niall and the lads have given him, and how freely. “S’alright, I reckon.”
Niall’s mouth moves up the back of his neck. “Yeah?”
Louis nods, and Niall’s arms tighten around his waist.
“You were gorgeous tonight, you really were.”
“I think you said, yeah. I reckon I wasn’t paying the most attention, but I remember that.”
“Are you paying attention now?” Niall asks seriously. “I want to be sure you know and don’t forget.” He scrubs his hands down Louis’s sides, squeezes the tops of his thighs before reaching between them, touching where Louis’s sore. And Louis allows it, the gentle stroke of Niall’s fingers, parting him for the warm water. “I know you’d never have asked for this yourself. But it was good, for me and for all the lads. It was fucking brilliant being able to give you something you wanted so much. Especially since it weren’t no hardship to do.”
“Seemed pretty hard to me, you lot,” Louis replies. Niall pinches the inside of his thigh, then smoothes over the small red mark he’s left.
“You don’t ask for much, is what I’m trying to say.”
Louis frowns. “That’s a load of shit. I’m the bossiest fucker you know.”
“Telling me to leave the band when I point out you’ve stolen my last pair of clean pants never got you done up the arse.”
Louis’s not sure that’s technically true—after all, Niall had to peel the pants off him to get them back—but he knows what Niall’s saying, and it won’t help to play dumb. “This was everything I wanted,” he says quietly. “It was everything I wanted and I thought I couldn’t have. And you made it easy. I couldn’t have imagined a birthday like this.”
“I know. But now you know what I’m capable of for your next one.”
“Think you and I will still be doing this by then?” It’s never been defined, or rules laid down or anything, that they sleep with each other and not anyone else usually, that somehow Harry being Louis’s best mate hasn’t stopped Niall getting under his skin in a way no one ever has.
Niall kisses his cheek. “Hope so. Can’t think of a reason why we’d stop.”
“Yeah,” Louis agrees, tilting his head back onto Niall’s shoulder and closing his eyes. “Me, too.”